Fiorella can't seem to get her posting times correct simply because The new Blogger keeps never gave her a "here's how" chart. Instead, it's every man/woman for himself/herself, and Fio was never good at guessing games. Also, she's gotten the idea that her homey kind of blog was not what The Powers That Be where trying to attract. Won't they be surprised when a hundred years from now, school kids will be studying her comments and observations on the twentieth century!
Time marches on. The FOR SALE sign will be hammered into the ground in front of your girl's beloved abode and some realtors will be coming over to look at it, which means Fio will have to clean the place up again. You'd be surprised how much hair a large dog can shed overnight.
MY KINGDOM FOR SOME DECENT WHITE PAINT TO TOUCH UP SOME CABINETS!
Daughter and her significant other visited this evening, and Fio was reminded of how little contact she has with the rest of the world, partially because of the virus, but mostly because she's lived alone for the past two years. Sonia Dog is a great comfort, but not much of a conversationalist, and, being that Fiorella lives on acreage, she rarely even sees her neighbors. But if things go as planned, Fiorella will be moving in with Son L and his family within a few months, which she hopes will sharpen up her conversational skills.
She also hopes to revive her writing career. There are at least four books and about twenty short stories packed away in boxes in the garage. Hoping they're still relevant.
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